Way Erred Scenes inside a Jazz Mine
Way Erred Scenes inside a Jazz Mine
— John Burroughs, 12/20/2009
Aswirl in creative flux
feel a faux need to squeeze
to get any err out
on screen or page
feeling sage in this smoke
of jasmine incense
hearing a catalyzing muse
sick I can't name and
I can't blame
you or blame me
not sure why we need to lay
it on anyone
as it is what it is
and just is
and what's wrong with that
why do we
always have to find something
wrong with everything
I can sing
without notes or tune
and so
I suspect
can you
whether or not some see it
as cruel or kind
aren't we blind to believe
every song needs sound waves
every lyric needs words
every world needs saved
every who needs heard
every herd needs a who
ain't it just what it is
whatever it is
and I know Dylan
said he not busy being born
is busy dying
but he failed to say
he busy being born is busy dying too
and why can't we say that
unafraid
it is what it is
and so what
the best jasmine incense burns out
and the worst lives
in memory just as long and wise
any writer wrong
what's worst or best
anyway
scents won't last forever
I think nonsense
won't either
but in some sense might
like night
wonder
if one day everything
we think is wrong
passes on
and everything right is left
could anything be right again
without us rewriting it
and when
you or I wonder
why I do or don't talk
may be hear's what you're missing
I'm always listening
and never shut up
sure it's easy to think
at least one of us is
in this walled room
in this sided house
in this incorporated city in this state
of apparent confusion
but Daishonin said
each moment possesses three
thousand realms
and I'm never outside a moment
even when I'm conscious
and your movement pervades
the realms I monitor
even when you don't feel
odd when you don't hear
sometimes we use the wrong ears
wrong might be the wrong word
because in certain uncertain worlds
sound waves are inefficient
often ineffectual
and even oddly misleading
despite their repeated best intent
shuns to be otherwise
so I use them or don't
you too
as inclination dictates or allows
but it's all
now
becoming
evident to me
that we're all ultimately
aswirl in creative flux
insight
outside
out of sight
inside
becoming
okay
either way
with or without
hour
foe need
two squeeze
smoke key
jazz mine
— John Burroughs, 12/20/2009
Aswirl in creative flux
feel a faux need to squeeze
to get any err out
on screen or page
feeling sage in this smoke
of jasmine incense
hearing a catalyzing muse
sick I can't name and
I can't blame
you or blame me
not sure why we need to lay
it on anyone
as it is what it is
and just is
and what's wrong with that
why do we
always have to find something
wrong with everything
I can sing
without notes or tune
and so
I suspect
can you
whether or not some see it
as cruel or kind
aren't we blind to believe
every song needs sound waves
every lyric needs words
every world needs saved
every who needs heard
every herd needs a who
ain't it just what it is
whatever it is
and I know Dylan
said he not busy being born
is busy dying
but he failed to say
he busy being born is busy dying too
and why can't we say that
unafraid
it is what it is
and so what
the best jasmine incense burns out
and the worst lives
in memory just as long and wise
any writer wrong
what's worst or best
anyway
scents won't last forever
I think nonsense
won't either
but in some sense might
like night
wonder
if one day everything
we think is wrong
passes on
and everything right is left
could anything be right again
without us rewriting it
and when
you or I wonder
why I do or don't talk
may be hear's what you're missing
I'm always listening
and never shut up
sure it's easy to think
at least one of us is
in this walled room
in this sided house
in this incorporated city in this state
of apparent confusion
but Daishonin said
each moment possesses three
thousand realms
and I'm never outside a moment
even when I'm conscious
and your movement pervades
the realms I monitor
even when you don't feel
odd when you don't hear
sometimes we use the wrong ears
wrong might be the wrong word
because in certain uncertain worlds
sound waves are inefficient
often ineffectual
and even oddly misleading
despite their repeated best intent
shuns to be otherwise
so I use them or don't
you too
as inclination dictates or allows
but it's all
now
becoming
evident to me
that we're all ultimately
aswirl in creative flux
insight
outside
out of sight
inside
becoming
okay
either way
with or without
hour
foe need
two squeeze
smoke key
jazz mine
I really like the flow of this.... very thoughtful.. I like....
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To err is human
But to breath
is not to dye
the air with
poor pull jazz
mine or yours.
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Anon, anon
but witch is
the mouse....
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The pun is fun
But who is the master
who baits this run???
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well my thought is ...
that the sound waves might be more effectual among the foes if they used some creative flux to fight the strife...
To err is human.. to forgive divine.
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us communicating with ourselves or us communicating with others is iffy at best because none of us know the right words or real truths and even if we did we can't communicate them to ourselves or others - yet as iffy as it is, it must still be attempted because we need to know ourselves and we need to know others and we don't.
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Sometimes I censor myself out of fear of hurting others (or myself). For instance, my first response to the anonymous comments above was to say "Anon a mess" or "An Animus" - but I refrained because I wasn't wanting any of the commenters to feel I was insulting them or calling one or more of them a "mess" or "animus." I meant it more generically/collectively - though I suppose it could be applied to all of us specifically, too, in ways. I know I personally can fit into the "mess" and "animus" labels, though I'm also the opposite of a mess in some ways, and a lot of other things in between. And so, I suspect, is everyone else.
Sometimes I don't say what I mean - sometimes I don't mean what I say - though in a poem (like this one) I generally try hard to do both. But even though I make every attempt to say what I mean and mean what I say, some things can come across the wrong way - people read their own experience(s) into things, whether or not that was my intent and whether or not the way they experience the poem (or parts of it) has anything to do with the way I do. And yet some things I don't mean to say or didn't think I meant or didn't want to mean or say, I say without realizing, and then I notice it later as I review the poem. Adrienne Rich once said, "Poems are like dreams. In them we put what we don't know we know."
The original title of this was "Why, Bother? Why? Bother! Why Bother?" (the first Bother was a noun of direct address, like I'm calling someone Bother and asking that person why - the second Bother was exclamatory, like "Humbug!" - the third Bother was a verb, like why should we bother? - but then I realized the third bother could also be taken as a noun, like why is there a bother?). And I gave it the subtitle "a jazz mine."
Then I changed the title to "Why Erred Scenes inside a Jazz Mine." Of course the textbook pronunciation of "erred" is "urred" - so "why erred" sounded like "wired" (I was writing while jazzed up on coffee) - and it was of course a play on the Jim Morrison line "Weird Scenes inside the Gold Mine." I wasn't sure I liked the questioning nature of Why here, though, since the point of the poem was acceptance (but I have nothing against questioning in general) - so the title felt unsettled.
Then on Facebook Kathy made a pun on where/wear and it caused "Way Err" to pop into my mind as more fitting than "Why Err." After that I was briefly hesitant to post the poem because I'd obviously riffed off her on the title (though the poem was written before all that), and I didn't want anyone to get the impression from her having had something to do with the title that the "you" in the poem was aimed at her. Completely besides that, for other reasons, I thought other people would see themselves or other people in the "you" as well - maybe with some justification, but more than likely without it - though I'm not sure that's always necessarily bad (it can often be). But the "you" in the poem really wasn't specifically or consistently meant to be anyone in particular - it's more a constantly evolving/morphing and largely collective "you," which includes various aspects of myself other than the one speaking. It seems I talk to myself more than I talk to anyone else, including in my poems - maybe because I'm the least likely to get tired of hearing myself talk (though it does happen), and the one I feel most comfortable talking to - as well as the one least likely to misunderstand what I'm saying/seeing/being (though I've been known to do that as well).
Anyway, folks are starting to arrive at Mom's house (we're having our family Christmas today), so I'll shut up for now.
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as i told lady, you can't worry about what others think or think they see because you can't control it. someone once convinced lady that my poem like candy on ice cream was about my not loving her any more. the poem wasn't even about lady, yet on re-reading i can see if someone thought it was about lady, it might have said that.
you can't control poems or how folk read them. you can't be sure another hears what you say the way you mean. you can't even write travel directions clearly down on a piece of paper and expect folk to read them properly. another's head is never your own, and actual communication and understanding are so rare as to be non-existent.
to make it even worse, i've read poeems or looked at art i made decades ago and i see new meaning i obviously meant but didn't even know the,
communication or understanding of of and with ourselves or others is futile, hopeless --- that's what keeps the game interesting because we all have to keep trying anyway.
and poetry is the trickiest attempt at this.
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beauterful poem!!!
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Thanks, Marc!
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I think it should be expected that people will bring their own interpretation to a poem. I love when the do.. helps me see things I didn't know where there.
Because for the most part they don't know from where it originates unless it is meant to be blatantly obvious to someone. And we all tend bring our own experiences to it.
But most people incorporate many facets into a poem when they write.. I know I do. It seldom is about just one thing. I might start out with a particular idea or something I might even want to convey but the poem quickly takes on a life of its own and other thoughts are drawn in.
Anyway.. my own two cents.
Though I find what you shared on what stimulated the poem and the ideas that worked their way into it very interesting.. thanks for sharing it.
A poem I finished last night was stimulated by something at the reading I was at on Saturday night... but was wholly unrelated to anything read or shared there. It just seemed to be something about the energy or atmosphere there that night that seemed to allow it to shape itself. I found that curious.
Anyway.. process fascinates me as much as what's written sometimes.
And sorry for going by anon so much lately. For me it is just easier to not rock the boat in any way just now with certain people. I know you know who I am and for now that is ok.
If it is an annoyance I'll just not post them.
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Comments are almost always less annoying than no comments.
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When comments are aired here nobody has erred. lol
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Merry Holidays John!!!!
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Thanks, bro! You too....
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One more thought on what can inspire a poem. Sometimes inspiration comes in interesting ways... My son was sharing a tidbit with me that I had not heard before. Evidently in his Beatles Rockband game for X box they give you a lot of historical and bio info on the Beatles. I find it interesting he actually reads it ...
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